


Puzzle Pieces

by Rhaoz



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dadster, Drama, Drug Use, F/M, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slice of Life, Undertale AU, rating may change to m at a later date, science and stuff happens wowie, well as close to slice of life as u can get with undertale pffFFF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaoz/pseuds/Rhaoz
Summary: You were a space cadet at the best of times, consistently stoned, and always working your ass off to try and better yourself. When you aren't whittling yourself down to the bone at work, you're hanging around Sans and Alphys, readily welcomed due to your uncanny ability to come up with answers to complex questions. Did you even know what your answers meant, or even what the questions actually were? Nope, not at all. Your brain just has a real snazzy way of processing information and spitting something kinda coherent out. This particular skill catches the attention of one of the most intelligent beings alive, and only time will tell whether or not that's a good thing.Hey, at least he's decided you're worth trying to tutor!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It goes without saying this is an AU take on the post-pacifist route. The reader character has pre-established friendships with a few characters, namely the skelebros, Alphys, Frisk (including Toriel and Asgore as their adoptive parents), and Grillby. Naturally, the reader will be meeting the others as the story goes on. The lowercase for all of Sans' dialogue is intentional, and should proper grammar ever be used, one should assume srs bsns is about to go down. Without further ado, lets get this ride started! Because God cannot stay my sinful hand and I demand more Gaster x Reader fics even if I have to churn them out myself >:U
> 
> edit: im not sure if it updates anyone when i make edits to the fic itself, but this is just to fix some typos! the next part will likely be up in an hour or two.
> 
> [Y/N] = your name

“c’mon, pops, she’s real smart. besides, you let paps have Undyne over, right?” It was spoken stubbornly as Sans leaned his elbows on the dining table, his brother busily cleaning up the kitchen after an eventful spaghetti dinner. Gaster’s inky smile seemed almost displeased as he stared his oldest son down, mulling over his request. The man didn’t often like either of his sons associating with anyone below a certain caliber of intelligence, save for very few exceptions, but Sans had brought up a fair point. He could argue that, of course, Papyrus was far more extroverted and required more social contact to be happy. And Undyne was a long time friend and in incredibly good standing with the monster and human community!

But Sans needed that, too, and Gaster was loathe to think he’d be accused of playing favorites otherwise. “She’s human, Sans, and not all humans are half as good as the child. I worry.” That was the truth, aside from his picky nature regarding who his family associated with. Things had been rough once on the surface, no matter how sweet the taste of freedom was, and it’d been an uphill battle to gain even basic rights. Much less the recent breakthrough in equal rights. “listen, she’s been on our side since day one. i’m willing to bet she’s even been to more rallies and protests on our part than frisk. just give her a chance, alright?”

There was so much more the scientist wanted to counter with, but he settled for a sour expression and an exasperated sigh instead. “Very well, just this once. However,” Gaster interjected quickly when Sans’ perpetual grin widened, “if she proves to be an ill behaved house guest or otherwise inappropriate, all of your... ‘hanging out’ will be done outside of this house. I cannot fathom why you would want me to meet her.” When his son only snickered up a storm, he frowned. “nah, she’s the one who wants to meet you. seemed pretty adamant on meeting the ‘wonderful man’ who raised such ‘wonderful sons’...well, papyrus is definitely wonderful. heh. anyways, think she’s got a... _boner_ for dad types.”

**_“Sans!”_ **

\-------------------------------------

You were a flustered mess when you finally found yourself outside of a very modern looking home, repeatedly smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of your clothes and carding your hands back through your hair. What? It wasn’t like you could help it. This house looked absolutely pristine, the grass was all an even height and gloriously green, smooth white walls didn’t have a single stain anywhere in sight, windows were entirely see through...you wanted to make sure you at least looked presentable. Papyrus and Sans both had warned you about their father’s prickly nature, but you wanted to meet him.

Anyone who’d help bring two absolutely wonderful skeletons into the world was worth knowing! And, well...you had spazzed a little bit when you found out their dad was the W.D. Gaster. Former royal scientist and now current head of one of the most prestigious research organizations in the whole damn world. You could care less about his fame (and if this house was anything to go by, fortune), you just wanted to meet him. See what he was like, try to figure out how that mind of his worked, maybe pick up on things you could apply to yourself. Not that you were in college or anything like that, no, you...well, your mental health had caught up to you, and one episode later had you dropping out.

The rift that’d caused in your social and personal life was pretty bad, you’d ended up moving out of your mom’s house, left on your lonesome. Friends who turned out to be not-so-good friends had started judging you hardcore for an episode you couldn’t help. Not that you were roughing it too hard or anything, you scraped together a living. But god if you could get back to school, get a proper education. You loved learning, you loved knowing how things worked, though you had to admit that such a structured learning environment wasn’t good for you. Too much stress and the like, you had compromised with yourself by pursuing self education. Well, with whatever time your two jobs left you with during the day and, occasionally, on the weekends.

You were hoping meeting another skeletal genius would boost your spirits and help your motivation. Hanging out with Sans and Alphys had worked wonders for you, and it seemed like the both of them really liked having you around while they did their own research. Mind you, you were almost always stoned out of your gourd, for medical reasons. But whenever they hit a particularly rough roadblock in their work, they’d pull you away from the provided snacks and ask for your input. You always felt like the nonsense that spilled out of your mouth in response was just that, nonsense, but some part of it always ended up being valid and they’d be able to get right back to work. It made you feel nice, honestly, and...not quite so stupid. Numbers and science-y stuff wasn’t your strong suit by any stretch of the imagination, you were more of a creative arts person.

But sometimes, it just felt right to come up with wacky solutions right on the spot for them. You couldn’t begin to explain the reasoning behind the answers you gave beyond it being some sort of stoner common sense. It was only after you’d successfully helped Sans and Alphys several times in a row that the short stack skeleton agreed to let you come chill at his place and finally meet his n’ Papyrus’ father. He’d made sure to mention his pops would definitely catch onto the high thing immediately and have nothing nice to say about it, though he had hurriedly included a pun about getting off his high horse, and that you’d do just fine once staying over long enough. Part of you suspected your friend just wanted your help with another problem, or maybe his dad had an issue or something.

Well, you weren’t going to complain. As long as you were promised munchies, you’d keep doing what you did best. Work on your personal projects and toss out advice when asked. Tilting your head back and using a few more drops of Visine in each eye, you blinked rapidly and wiped the excess from your cheeks and marched up to the door. One last look over yourself as your Visine was pocketed, and you pushed the doorbell. The crashing and commotion you heard from inside was all you needed to hear to know it was Papyrus before the door was yanked open and you were unceremoniously swept up into his arms. “HUMAN! YOU MADE IT!” He gave you an affectionate sort of squeeze, and you giggled, hugging him back. Sure, your feet were hanging well above the ground, but Papyrus hugs were the best hugs.

“A’course I made it, dude. I said I’d be comin’ over today, yeah?” After you pat his head, he put you back down before grabbing your wrist, tugging you inside. “Sans! [Y/N] is here! Get down here, you lazybones!” Papyrus let go of you to close the door, and you snickered a bit, taking a look around. Man, super clean place, the interior was just as fancy looking as the exterior. Polished gray floors, sleek furniture, totally modern appliances and an open floor plan...not to mention all the natural lighting from the reinforced glass walls here and there. A shoe rack caught your attention, and after taking note of a few pairs sitting on it, you politely took your own off. Super fuzzy socks mode activated. You internally sent a prayer to whatever divine being was listening that you wouldn’t slip and fall on the floor.

...then again, sliding around sounded like loads of fun. No, no, let’s not make a bad first impression in case their father was home. You looked up in time to see Papyrus meeting Sans halfway up some steel steps, picking him up and carrying him the rest of the way down, complaining the whole way. “Honestly, brother! You take too long! What if [Y/N] got bored and decided to leave?” The dynamic between the two always made you happy, what with Papyrus’ endless scolding and fussing, and Sans’ puns thrown in just to rile him up more “heh. paps, i think it’d take more ‘an me dragging my feet to make her...bored out of her _skull_.” “SANS!” The taller’s groan only induced a giggle fit like no other in you, wheezing and covering your grinning mouth with one of your hands. Once Sans was back on his own two feet, he threw up his hand by means of a lazy greeting, “yo.”

“Hiya, Sans. Is he home? Do I get to say hi?” You bounced in place a bit, excited, and you missed how your friend rolled his eyes in amusement. “I assume you mean me.” That was a velvety ass voice, and your gaze immediately snapped to the kitchen. How had you missed him in there before? You could’ve sworn you’d recognize someone that...tall. Maybe he could take ‘shortcuts’ or something like Sans? “Father! Hello! When did you get home? Meet our friend!” Papyrus yanked you up again, effectively squeezing the air from your lungs in another hug, carrying your ass right on into the kitchen. “Paps, can’t breathe, loosen up,” wheezed as you tapped at one of his arms, getting air back into your lungs once you were set down again. You only patted his arm affectionately when he made to start apologizing, grinning at him.

Honestly, you knew he was a gentle giant, he’d never hurt anyone on purpose. But speaking of giants...if you thought Papyrus was tall, good lord in the morning, his father was fucking massive. Your head craned back and you blinked up at him owlishly, uncaring about the impassive stare he fixated you with in turn. A smooth, oblong head with pitch black eye sockets. One seeming to droop, the other normal, an inky mouth connected by a black streak to his normal eye. The other had a similar streak reaching up, and you assumed, all the way around his head to join into his black neck. Like Sans, he had white pupils, though his seemed to be ringed by a faint shade of violet. This was a pretty ass monster, you had to admit. Too hot, hot damn.

Not to mention the...well fitting suit. It had to be custom made, there was no way something just bought at your run of the mill suit shop would fit someone that damn well. Nice broad chest, broad shoulders, kind of buff looking. Legs for days. You could tell by the brief flash of irritation across his features he either took offense to be studied so closely, or he caught onto the dank that your perfume had failed to mask entirely. It was probably both, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, you beat him to the punch. “Dude, anybody ever told you that your body structure is perfect? Like, dude...listen. If I’d brought my sketchbook with me, I’d be begging you to model. Holy jeepers creepers, man.” You took a step back, looking him up and down again, mentally kicking yourself for forgetting it at home. It took several moments for your brain to remind you that isn’t what you’d normally say to someone you just met, not to mention you could hear Sans dying of laughter behind you.

Scowling down at you, Gaster’s tone took on a somewhat icy edge, “no, but I have heard better attempts at flirting in my time.” Flirting? What. Oh, you guessed it could’ve come off as flirting. “Uhhh, nah. I’d rather my date mates be, like, within kissing distance. Tryn’a smooch you would be like climbing Mount Everest, dude.” Waving off what he said and cracking a smile at the weird expression he pulled in response, you remembered your manners. “Anyways, name’s [Y/N]. I’m a friend of Sans and Paps. Nice to meet you, Mr. Skeledad.” You held your hand out for a handshake, and he looked at it as if you’d offered him a snake before taking it and giving it a brief shake. “Likewise. Call me Doctor Gaster.” He tone brokered no room for argument, and you nodded idly before turning to face your friends instead.

“Are y’all ready to rage?!” Closed fists up in the air, bouncing in place, and Sans just kept laughing harder. You could only imagine what kind of face his father was pulling behind you to induce that reaction. “TO THE RAGE CAGE!” Yes, good, you had managed to worm your way into Papyrus’ daily vocabulary. Normally, the rage cage would refer to hardcore partying. In this instance, the rage cage referred to Rainbow Road and Mario Kart, affectionately dubbed that after inducing ungodly amounts of rage from everybody who visited your apartment at least once.“you two have fun, i need to talk to pops for a bit.” Part of you deflated, sending Sans a pout, but at his lazy little grin you allowed Papyrus to grab your hand and drag you away, up the stairs and to his room.

\-------------------------------------

Once you and Papyrus were out of earshot, Gaster turned and stared his son down. “What are you thinking?! Letting someone like that around Papyrus, much less into our home?! She’s high as a kite, Sans!” Angered disappointment bled into his voice, rumbling like thunder. Sans hardly batted an eye, or, erh, socket at the impending lecture. “she’s got a medical card, pops, ain’t illegal. but it sounds like you’ve got a bone to pick with me either way.” The far taller monster only growled at the pun, dragging a gloved hand down his face and counting backwards from ten to try and calm himself back down, lest he explode.

Tense, he changed the subject, voice controlled and even. “Have you or Alphys made any progress on the project I requested your help with?” Gaster’s hands clasped together behind the small of his back, staring as calmly as he could at Sans. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he was quiet for a moment, “not much, pops. but [Y/N] has helped out the few times we got stuck. i think she might be able to help us with the final piece of the puzzle. wanna give her a chance before you kick her out?” Silence fell between them both, and the sheer disregard and disbelief on Gaster’s face told him exactly what he thought of you. “I find it incredibly improbable that little chit has helped in any way, shape, or form. But very well. She has one chance, and only one chance, to redeem herself.”

“If she’s as intelligent as you seem to think she is, she will be permitted over more often.”  
“c’mon, she’s not a complete _bonehead_.”  
**_“SANS.”_**

\-------------------------------------

You were in the middle of the final lap when Sans poked his head into Papyrus’ room, the both of you comfortable on his car shaped bed, wheel controllers in hand. “yo, [Y/N], me n’ pops need ya for a bit.” Both you and his brother groaned in response, but you still put your controller aside and got to your feet, stretching. “Science-y stuff? Ya owe me an order of fries and a shake from Grillby’s if I give good advice again.” He only rolled his eyes at you as you muffled a yawn, shuffling your way out of Papyrus’ room after promising to be back as soon as possible to keep playing. Following him out and down the stairs, you hummed lowly under your breath. “I don’t get why you ask for my help, I say dumb stuff and it just helps you figure the rest out. You’d get it on your own eventually.”

He sent you a glance back over his shoulder before shrugging. “sometimes you say stuff that actually makes sense, and besides, i’d get _bonely_ without you around.” “Pfftch. I dunno, your dad seems really... _sternum_.” It was Sans’ turn to laugh, heading towards another door that seemed to descend down into the basement. “speaking of pops, don’t let him make you nervous. he’s not gonna bite your head off or anything.” Easy for him to say, but you weren’t bothered either way. You were too content and hazy for anything to get you upset, and you wanted to try and help them both out if you could. “Just don’t get mad at me if I don’t come up with anything useful this time, dude.” Sans wouldn’t get mad at you, you knew that, but man it’d suck if he was disappointed. “takes too much effort to get mad.” Lazybones.

Still, the basement was brightly lit and smelled like disinfectant. That completely sterile smell that came with hospitals. Wrinkling your nose, you walked carefully to make sure your socks wouldn’t slip and slide all over the white tile, aware that Gaster was watching you both approach. Some small things were here and there, others held in some sort of magical stasis, monitors all over the place. A minor lab, and nothing in comparison to the research building Sans and Alphys worked in. Of course...Sans had to sneak you in via shortcut most of the time, their floor was one of those sneaky-beaky floors with super cool science-y stuff. Dear lord, your thoughts made you feel dumb sometimes. But this was probably for small, personal projects instead of the big ones that needed more resources and backing.

Gaster pointedly gestured to a stool settled in front of a metal counter, and you hurriedly took a seat, blinking between him and Sans. “...so, uh, whatcha need me to look at?” Your nails drummed on the counter’s surface, clicking and tapping away as the older monster winced at the needless noise. Your friend was the one to hop up onto the counter to sit beside you, plopping a folder down in front of you. “These are a copy of our notes. Not all monsters are capable of at will ‘teleportation’ like Sans and I are, and certainly no humans can pull it off. It isn’t true teleporting, naturally, simply an ability to...step through to other places. We were hoping to make a device that replicated, in some way, what we do as a means of transportation.” You could tell where he was going with this, and you gaze shifted up to Sans for further explanation.

“we’ve got just about everything right, but the prototypes still won’t work in conjunction with one another. not without ending up completely destroying the stuff we try to send through. this is one of our more serious projects, doubt i gotta warn you ta keep your mouth closed if you don’t wanna have a bad time.” Not a warning from him, no, but you knew it was more about the monster currently standing over top of you and waiting in bored silence. Huffing and shifting uncomfortably, you opened the blue folder, and took to squinting at all the notes. Working with Sans on science-y stuff so much had lent itself to understanding wing dings without needing a cheat sheet beside you, and, well...if it was this important, to have the head honcho himself desperate enough to let you look at it, you’d do your best.

It didn’t take long after scouring through blueprints drawn on graph paper and lines upon lines of coordinates before an idea finally pinged. “All of this is set to account for second and third dimensional planes, which yeah, obviously you need, but uh...why haven’t you guys thought about fourth dimensional space? Just cuz we aren’t fourth dimensional beings doesn’t mean it isn’t a thing. And, uh...the uh, thingies,” your finger tapped against the coordinates, “don’t include a time factor. Y’all are just hurling stuff into whatever even knows, if you believe in the parallel universe theory. Stuff’s coming back destroyed because of damage over time in whatever place is in between places, not the fancy schamncy teleporter thingamajig. You need a set destination, that includes time, so things don't get lost during travel, a deadline I guess.” You were satisfied with your answer, though you kept looking through the notes either way, not noticing the stunned glances shared between the two monsters beside you.

“Where did you study at, girl?” The file was snatched from in front of you and you gave an annoyed grunt, turning to frown up at Gaster. “I graduated high school, sorry if that wasn’t a good answer, jeez. I tried my best.” Hopping down from your seat, you tapped your toes against the floor, embarrassed and refusing to look up again. “I just look at the stuff I’m given and say what makes sense to me, I mean, I didn’t understand any of that stuff in your guys’ notes, I just said what felt right. Like, I’m kinda good at putting information together, even if I don’t get what the stuff actually means on its own? Sometimes the pieces just, uh...click together, and something starts to make sense...sorry, I ain’t as smart as you and Sans.” “he isn’t being mean, [Y/N], you did good, c’mon...i owe you fries and a shake, right?” The offer of food had you perking back up again, smiling brightly. “Heck yeah you do! Let’s grab Papyrus and go!” It was your turn to drag someone off, holding Sans’ hand and eagerly leaving the basement.

You missed the contemplative gaze fixated on you as you left, only to turn to the folder in his hands. Gaster paused, free hand coming to allow gloved fingertips to rub over his chin. "She's right. An incredibly crude and unrefined answer, but the general gist of it was right." Honestly, what had come out of your mouth was so stupid, he was surprised he was able to connect the dots in the way you had. The coordinates did need to be readjusted, other things had been overlooked, and that left him wondering. If you could learn to understand what exactly had just come out of your mouth, what you had been looking at really meant...

Perhaps, if you weren't so dense that you couldn't learn, he could find a place for you on his team. Of course...that was quite the stretch. You came off as ditzy as the day was long. There was a limitless number of applicants hoping for even the lowest level entry job in his organization, much less anyone even remotely qualified for working alongside him personally. And all far more qualified than some stoned little chit that'd somehow made her way into his home. But there was something uncanny about a mind that could solve puzzles like that, a trait he'd only seen in himself and his sons (if only Papyrus had inherited his studious nature like Sans!). Alphys, in some regards. There was potential, so much potential, and being able to tap into a fresh point of view like that whenever he wanted? To get actual, coherent responses in turn instead of that...mess that'd come out of your mouth? He could only imagine the questions you could ask if you knew more, learned more, came to understand that you do not understand nearly enough.

If your appetite for learning was even half as voracious as any hopeful applicant, the work that could be done! You had the mindset for it, if he could mold it, shape it, guide it, the possibilities were endless! So much was already getting done with Sans and Alphys, one more bright mind, one that could approach their problems for them? One that, apparently, had already been doing small favors for them and their projects? Gaster shuddered at the mere thought of it. It was decided, he would see if you could be taught.

"Gods, what am I getting myself into?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jiminy cricket i did not expect any feedback at all for at least week pls let me love all of u. needless to say, i was super motivated to go ahead and finish up this part for you guys! updates will not be this rapid fire all the time, i may take a few days before i post another chapter. thank you guys so much omg ;u;

“Fries n’ a shake, fries n’ a shake, fries n’ a shake!” Your voice was a lilted sing song as you sauntered into the bar, Sans and Papyrus hot on your heels. “honestly, [Y/N], i’ve never seen anyone get as excited as you do over food. i guess you’ve got a passion that the rest of us...” He paused and his brother immediately fixed him with a suspicious glare. “Sans, don’t you dare-” “gotta ketchup to.” “Saaaans!” You choked back a giggle as Papyrus stomped his foot, huffing. Honestly, you were surprised the younger of the two came, he never did have a stomach for greasy bar food. Maybe he was just being nice?

“I don’t think you’d ever be able to mustard the strength to keep up with me, boneboy.” The pained groan that came out of Papyrus’ mouth would’ve made you feel bad if it didn’t have Sans snickering up a storm. “I will relish in it the day you two stop with your nonsense puns! Nyeh heh heh!!” Papyrus’ chest puffed up and you both stared at him in surprise before breaking down into laughs anew. Either way, you took an empty stool in front of the fire elemental, and the skeletons one on either side of you. At least it wasn’t too busy yet, but give it another hour or two and the after work rush would be here in full force.

Setting the glass he was cleaning aside, along with his white rag, Grillby adjusted his glasses before speaking. “...what can I get for you?” You really did love his voice. It was always warm, just like sitting by an actual fire. Crackling and sizzling, and if smoke had a sound, it’d sound exactly like that. “A chocolate milkshake and fries, please! Also, he’s paying.” You immediately pointed at Sans, a cheeky grin on your face, who only snorted in response. “i’m pretty sure you’d make me go broke if you had your way, keep on ordering til my wallet was pretty bare boned.” He was joking, of course, and you managed a chortle, but you didn’t look at him.

It wasn’t like you could afford anything beyond ramen after your monthly bills were paid for. Utilities, rent, student loan debt, medical debt, money for all your medications...shit got steep, man. Part of you felt bad for always jumping on the opportunity whenever your friends offered you food, but man, anything beat ramen. Your body needed something outside of cheap microwaveable noodles. “grillbz, add a burger to her order. paps, want anything?” Your face immediately turned bright red, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Damn, were you too obvious? Then again, Sans had been over at your place often enough to know you didn’t have much in stock.

After seeing his house today, you actually felt a little embarrassed. A feeling that was very much fleeting after Papyrus asked for a vanilla shake and Grillby eventually came back with your orders. “Fries n’ a shake! Fries n’ a shake!” Wiggling happily in your seat, you wasted no time in picking up a fry...and dipping it directly into your shake, popping it into your mouth with a pleased hum. Sweet and salty goodness, you were in heaven. Not that you focused on that for long, immediately switching the song up to “burgers n’ fries, burgers n’ fries!” Listen, you loved food, you had free food, you were going to enjoy every bit of it. Still being a bit on the stoned side just made it all the better.

Papyrus seemed equally happy with his shake, and Sans was watching you both with a content sort of look on his face. “Grillbz,” you started with a mouthful, a hand in front of your lips to at least be halfway polite, swallowing before continuing, “you da man. Your food continues to be da bomb. You’re on fire with your cookin’ skills. You can really take the heat in the kitchen. Nobody could hold a candle to your cuisine. I am in lava with your food.” Poor Papyrus seemed to be suffering beside you while Sans had his face buried in his arms on the bar, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “I couldn’t ash for a better burger.” You were struggling to keep a straight face between puns, lips quirking into a smile as you ate.

Grillby’s ‘hair’ flickered in amusement, adjusting his glasses before continuing to clean. “...thank you.” He was fairly used to rapid fire puns (haha, another pun), Sans was one of his regulars, after all. Either way, once the bartender was busy with another customer, you turned to Sans. “Hey, uh...thanks for paying. I wasn’t being serious earlier, I can pay for my own.” Ah, the return of the self conscious thoughts, damning the way you could feel your ears burn in humiliation. Sure, yeah, it was a bit of an inside joke between you and the rest of your friends that you could be motivated to do anything for food. But now you kind of felt that some of it was done out of pity, and that made you feel weird. He only gave you a lazy seeming grin, propping his head on his hand.

“nah, it’s your paycheck for always helping me out. and you did me a favor, anyways. pops wasn’t too happy about having you over until you worked your magic. we were pretty stumped. guess ya could say we’re real numbskulls for overlooking something so obvious.” He winked at you and you felt your tension melting away, timidly nodding and turning your attention back to your food. That made sense, you mean, you did get food in exchange for favors or advice most of the time. Equal exchange, right? Right. No more feeling guilty, not when you have a delightful meal right in front of you. It didn’t take long for you to fairly inhale the rest of your burgers and fries, even less time to drink your shake and give yourself a killer case of brain freeze.

A hand came up to your head and you winced, eyes squinting. “Ow, ow, too cold, shiii-take mushrooms.” After a quick glance at Papyrus to make sure he hadn’t caught onto your almost swear, the brief flash of pain was already fading. Looks like he was already done with his shake, too, and Grillby cleared away the dirty dishes. “put it on my tab, grillbz.” The man’s hair only flickered in acknowledgment and the three of you were off, and just in time, too. People had already started filing into the bar, and your anxiety would have none of that. Speaking of panic inducing situations! Your phone was pulled from your pocket and you worried your lower lip between your teeth at the time. “Thanks again, Sans. And we’ll play again some other time, okay, Paps? I gotta head home and get ready for work tonight.”

After a bone crushing hug from Papyrus and a far less painful embrace from Sans, you parted ways for the evening. Your day job often saw you stocking the shelves at a local supermarket. Night job...well, you were the only one of your friends that could jog in stilettos without breaking your ankles for a reason. Not that you’d complain much. At least you had killer core strength. As far as anyone knew, you just worked overnight at some gas station. You’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible, if not indefinitely.

\-------------------------------------

“Sans? A word, please.” Gaster hardly looked up from his book when his sons ambled back inside, though his reading glasses were plucked from his face and he got up from the couch. After exchanging a glance with Sans, Papyrus would make his way upstairs, leaving the two alone. “The girl. Invite her over again tomorrow.” The monster’s tone was brusque, cool, even. “no can do, today was her day off, she’s working tonight, tomorrow, and tomorrow night. but i can ask her when her schedule’s free again.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Sans shuffled his way into the kitchen, undoubtedly...yes, there he goes, pulling a ketchup bottle out of the fridge. Gaster had followed along, face deadpan as he watched him unscrew the top and take a swig of tomato paste. Eugh.

“Tell her to take a sick day. I have something I want to discuss with her.” He didn’t quite understand the snort Sans made, arms folding over his chest. “in the months i’ve known her, [Y/N] has never missed a single day of work. i dont think she’s gonna start now. unless...” Oh no, he already knew what was coming, he could tell by that shit eating grin on Sans’ face. “y’took the dad thing i said before into account? huh. never figured my dad would be into the daddy kink scene. gross.” “You are beyond lucky you are too old to be grounded.” It was groaned in sheer exasperation, bony fingertips coming up to rub at his temples in an attempt to stay the oncoming headache. “so, would she call ya gaster, or dadster?”

“Sans. If this is your way of playing matchmaker, I am not interested in the slightest bit. Much less in someone so young, and certainly not anyone human. Do not make me fight fire with fire, young man. I know fully well why you spend so much of your free time at Grillby’s.” That seemed to work as an effective gag order, seeing as his son’s face immediately turned all sorts of blue and he took great interest in his ketchup. Wait. “...was that a pun?” And gag order ruined, Sans is already back to grinning and snickering. What was he thinking? Fight fire with fire? Dear lord, he walked right into that one. Too late to back down, now. “Hm? I didn’t think you charred enough to listen. Perhaps it was.” Admittedly, watching his oldest son crack up brought a genuine smile to his face.

Even Papyrus, for all his moans and groans (something he admittedly inherited from his father), was prone to a healthy amount of punning. A trait Gaster attributed to their mother...ah, but that wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now. Relatively sobered by that stray thought, the man would busy himself with fixing a fresh pot of coffee. “Either way, make sure you have her visit as soon as it’s convenient. Make it work with my schedule. I would like to have her take a few tests, perhaps inquire further about her educational background. From what I gather, she’s already seen no small handful of our projects...and perhaps you and Alphys should have your clearance level knocked down a few pegs until you both learn the meaning of confidentiality.”

For all that bark, he and Sans both knew there was no bite. Well, not for Sans, maybe for Alphys. “It may be profitable to tutor her for some time. If that tiny little spark of coherency she showed today was no lucky fluke, then perhaps it would be wise to...keep her around, once she’s smartened up a bit.” Gaster was tense, replacing an old filter with a new one and filling it with coffee grounds. Here it comes, he knows it’s coming.

“told ya so.”

There it is.

\-------------------------------------

One night, then a day, and another night without sleep found you collapsing onto your mattress where it lay on the floor, close to passing out right then and there. But you would force yourself to at least lean on your elbows instead, finally turning your phone on and staring at its dim screen with heavy eyes. A couple missed texts and emails, nothing too serious. An invitation to go drinking, readily declining. One friend going hiking and asking if you wanted to tag along, hell no, but you were polite about it. It was a miracle when you had time for the skelebros and Alphys, and even then, you spent that time working on something or with your nose in a textbook.

Speaking of one of your favorite spooky scary skeletons, you had unread texts from him, too. Wincing as you rolled over onto your back, it took you several minutes to manage a coherent response.

[sans]: hey i know ur working 2marrow  
[sans]: wanna come ovr 4 dinner night after?  
[sans]: pops invited u  
x Messages received!  
Y/N is typing...  
[you]: i see what u did there u clever fuck  
[you]: and i guess. depends on how i feel :/  
[you]: but u kno me. mention food and i will come.  
x Messages read!  
sans is typing...  
[sans]: so its settled. see u then  
x Messages received!

At least you had a few hours to get some shut eye before you had to go back to work again. But you’d be off around dinner time, anyways. It worked out just fine, and it saved you from the evils of ramen. Speaking of ramen...you groaned as you forced yourself back up, ambling into your kitchen. Ramen, microwave safe bowl, wait five minutes...shove noodles into your face, go brush teeth, shower, pass out in bed. You wished you had some time to cram some studying in, maybe at least try to wrap your head around algebra, but sleep took you before you could get up again.

\-------------------------------------

Freedom, oh sweet, sweet, freedom. Were you still in your work clothes? You betcha. Were you taking a quick hit as you walked up to Sans’ front door? Also correct! Exhaling and enduring the coughing fit that followed, everything was shoved back into your bag, and you spritzed yourself with perfume a few times. You could care less if you came in looking like a train wreck, your body sure felt like it. Stocking sucked big time, you could swear your arms still felt the weight of every box full of canned goods you’d lobbed up and down various aisles. Tension still in your calves and thighs from lifting to spare your back, even then it was still stiff and sore.

For food and food alone you hadn’t gone straight home. And, well, to see Sans and Papyrus. Plus their dad explicitly asking for you kinda...had you worried? In a way. Maybe he decided he wanted to chew you out and wanted to embarrass you as much as possible. Getting an earful in front of your friends would certainly do the trick. Jokes on him, though, you already felt yourself relaxing a tiny bit and a lazy smile settling on your face. The pain hadn’t gone away fully, no, and you knew too much movement would leave you suffering, but you didn’t really want to walk in in full blaze mode. 

When it didn’t sound like a stampede of elephants was coming to greet you, you already knew it was Sans opening the door. “...you ok? ya look like you’ve worked yourself down to the bone, kiddo.” His concern was appreciated, though you waved it off with a grin as you stepped inside. “Nah, you know how it is, I’m good broski.” But as you leaned down to unlace your work boots, you winced, hand not even making it down passed your knee. “i got it, relax.” A flicker of blue in one eye socket and the laces are undoing themselves, and you carefully lifted each foot so each could be whisked onto the rack. “Thanks, here, lemme spare y’all from chemical warfare.” Snickering at your own joke, your perfume made its way back out of your bag again.

Several sprays at your feet, and some more inside each boot. Not today, stinky after work feet, not today. After making sure you were sufficiently deodorized, you took your time in looking around the house again. Bit different now that it was getting dark out, but the overhead lights kept everything just as bright as it was during the day. If not even brighter. “HUMAN! HELLO! I would come to greet you properly, but I, The Great Papyrus, am making dinner!” You smiled at him where he stood in the kitchen, mitts on his hands and frilly apron on. Kind of cute, you could get why Sans was fiercely overprotective of him at times. “It’s okay, Paps, just don’t burn yourself or anything.” Waving as he went back to the task at hand, you more than willingly followed Sans to the couch.

Sinking down onto it, you didn’t bother holding back a sigh of relief. For stiff looking leather, it was amazingly comfortable, and you shamelessly let yourself somewhat sprawl back into the corner. One arm on the armrest, the other thrown over the back, a leg half on and your head lolling against your shoulder. “Pretty sure trying to get back up is gonna kill me dead. Plan my funeral. Tell my friends I love them. Cram as many memes into my obituary as you possibly can, Sans. I’ll come back to haunt you if mmm whatcha say isn’t in there somewhere.” You didn’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes at your melodramatics, but man, trying to stand again was going to hurt so, so bad. One hit wasn’t nearly enough to take all of it away, though there was no way in hell you were opening yourself up to potential insults a la Mr. Skeledad after today.

Speak, or rather, think of the devil and he shall appear. Shoes clicking over the floor alerted you to his silent arrival, and you immediately opened your eyes. When had you closed them, anyways? At least you hadn’t fallen asleep. You sat up prim and proper, unable to bite back a wince at the sudden movement, and you looked up at the intimidating monster. “Good evening, Doctor Gaster. Thanks for having me over.” Nice, play it cool, [Y/N], play it super cool. Cooler than cool, play it ice cold. If it was possible for him to arch an eyebrow, you could tell he was, cryptic gaze sweeping up and down your disheveled appearance.

“...sorry, came here right after work so I wouldn’t be late.” Why were you apologizing? He was the one that wanted you over, he could deal with you not looking as snazzy as you did the first go around. “You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question so much as it was an observation, and you had to fight not to roll your eyes. “Manual labor, dude, it kicks your butt without remorse. No mercy.” Not like you could land some cozy desk job with your educational track record. You were pretty sure your G.P.A. was even lower than your sense of self esteem! Okay, ouch, you got a little too dark for your own tastes there. “well, i’m gonna go keep an eye on paps, make sure he doesn’t get too carried away.” Sans sent his father a meaningful glance before getting up and ambling away, leaving awkward silence in his absence.

“Ah, yes, [Y/N]. I have something to discuss with you. Come along.” Gaster gestured, almost impatiently, for you to get up. And hey, you know how when you sit down while in pain, and when you get up its suddenly a thousand times worse? Welcome to your personal hell. The moment you surged up onto your feet, you were robbed of your ability to move, freezing and taking in a harsh breath. Fuck, that hurt. One hit was not enough hits, why had you cared about anyone’s opinion again? Maybe it showed on your face because in the next instant, Mr. Skeledad was at your side and had taken hold of one of your arms to offer some support. “I’m good, I’m good, just give me a second.” You slowly managed to straighten up completely, despite how your back protested, giving your jelly legs time to solidify. And telling your screaming muscles to shut the hell their mouths.

“Perhaps a smoke break is in order?” His tone was even, steely perhaps, but it didn’t border on malicious. He was starting to see a little bit of the ‘medical’ side of your little...habit. “Uh, yeah, that sounds like a plan, my dude.” You tugged your arm free from him, waiting until Gaster started to lead the way before you followed him. More like hobbled, ow, why did you make the mistake of sitting down? You both passed by the kitchen on your way out onto what you assumed was the back porch, catching a glimpse of Sans busily using blue magic to add spices to the various dishes Papyrus was cooking when he wasn’t looking. That was something you’d have to tease Sans about later.

For now, Gaster pulled a sliding glass door open and gestured for you to go out first, so you did. He shortly followed after you, closing it and finding a porch chair to sit down on. You took one beside his, separated by a small table with an ash tray on it. Cigarettes? Huh. You’d’ve never thought him the type. But sure enough, a pack made its way out of his jacket pocket and he was lighting up, leaving you to sit quietly. His lighter flicked, he took a drag, and he glanced at you from the corners of his eyes. “Well?” Oh, right, smoke break. Making an ‘uh’ sound under your breath, you dug through your ever present bag, fishing out a slightly beat up pack of your own. That’s what he meant, right? “No. Girl, it is impossible to be even half as daft as you’re acting right now. You’re on private property, use your...medicine.”

You could hear the sneer in his voice and you winced a little, but that was, uh...something. Awkwardly clearing your throat, a smaller bag was taken out of your bag. A bag within a bag, how delightful! Bagception. Distracting yourself from your thoughts, you let it rest on your knees, unzipping it and getting your hands busy. No need for the pipe if you were allowed to smoke, and you had a jay rolled up and stored in a doob tube anyways. Just like he lit up, so did you, leaning back in the chair and trying to relax as you did. “Thanks, I know you probably have a pretty negative opinion about this stuff.” Hell, most of your friends were against it and had plenty to say about it, too.

“Incorrect. I do not think kindly of those who abuse it for recreational use. Those who need it for legitimate reasons, however, are fine. I view it as I would any other controlled substance.” Well, that was fair enough, you thought. “I gotcha. Don’t use it for physical health, though, but it does help a ton in that regard, too.” Another long drag and you could already feel your body settling into a comfortable kind of buzz. Buzz? Maybe that wasn’t the right word. It always felt like ripples expanding out and through you from your tummy, dizzying at first but soothing within seconds. “Really fuckin’ need it for the mental part after today, too, fuckin’ christ.” Groaning, your head rested against the back of the chair, glaring up at the steadily darkening sky.

“I’ll humor you, if only because nothing exciting happened for me today. Pray tell, what happened today?” He sounded condescending, but whatever. Sometimes it was easier to bitch about your day to people who didn’t care, you knew you weren’t worrying them or anything like that. “Aight, hope you’re ready for this shit, my dude. So, I’ve been working at a grocery store a few blocks from here for like two years. I’ve been offered a promotion to shift manager a few times, but that means interacting with people more, and I’m not about that life. Fast forward to a week ago. Someone I work with got a promotion, been there way longer than me. Dude is as salty as the ocean, right? I never took the promotion offers, but I got them before he did, so he’s still wicked mad. So, store policy for stockers. Put out three carts an hour. I’m talking massive carts on wheels, several hundred pounds worth of stock.”

“You gotta put that shit out, take care of the trash, and when you’re filling the shelves, obviously you gotta pull the older stuff to the front and put the new stuff behind it. There’s never been any problem that no one has been able to do more than two, maybe two and a half, carts in that time. I consistently get two done. So, keep in mind, no one else is catching flak for not getting three, but as soon as he's above me in rank, I'm getting singled out by him every time we work together. The fact he’s being a saltine cracker is obvious but I can’t do jack about it because it is store policy. You get a verbal warning, then a write up, then you’re fired.” Now you slunk down in your seat, silent for a few minutes while you focused on smoking, letting yourself get hazy. “Got my write up today after a verbal a few days ago. Pretty sure I’m losing my job tomorrow, I'm on the clock with him again. I mean, I have two, but...that one was stable, y’know?”

You felt dumb, complaining about working class problems to a man who obviously wasn’t strapped for cash. But your reality was that a missing paycheck meant not being able to pay most of your bills, even if you could get the rent taken care of with your other...profession. Even then, that depended on how generous people were feeling on any given night, and how many nights you went in to work. “I dunno, man. On one hand, I’ll be glad if I do, because working exclusively stock hurts. I’ve already got arthritis from it. A few accidents at work here and there lead to some minor chronic pain issues. But on the other, it isn’t like I’ll be able to find anything better for myself. I dropped out of college, who the hell is gonna hire me for some nice desk job? I ain’t into suckin’ dudes off to be their underpaid secretary, either. Just... I’unno. I should swallow my pride and do some major ass kissing if I want to keep my job.”

Another few drags, and you were surprised to see you were already down to the filter. Exhaling a steady stream of grey smoke, you leaned over to put it in the ash tray. “Getting fired is better than quitting, but it still looks bad on a resume. I hate it, man. I hate that people can be so full of themselves that they’d ruin someone else’s life. Fuck humans in general.” It startled you, how much venom you’d laced into the word ‘humans’, spitting it like a slur. Either way, you sat up properly, giving your limbs a few experimental stretches. You’re in the clear, now, the ache is minimal and word vomiting at Gaster like he was your personal diary certainly helped with the stress aspect of it all. Silence was all that fell between you two, now, though you looked over as he lit another cigarette. Chainsmoker, huh?

“I have a proposition for you.” It was then he turned to look at you, expression passive though vaguely amused. “Bruh, just said I wasn’t into sucking dudes off to be an underpaid secretary.” You held your arms up in an X and nearly choked at the revolted look on his face. Totally worth it. “No, you stupid girl. Paid training, if you will. Quit the job. Your mind, however...addled it may be, is put to waste there. I will work it in around my schedule and tutor you. Typically, one would be paying me for such sessions, or even one lesson. I will consider it an investment instead. I assure you, you would make more than you do at some grocery store.” If he had a nose, you were sure he’d be scrunching it up in distaste. “If you progress sufficiently, you will be allowed to observe the projects my team works on. Over time, if you are capable of learning and retaining information, you will join it.”

At first, you couldn’t tell if you were just hearing things because you took a joint to the face, or if this was your actual, real life. W. D. Gaster, the W. D. Gaster, wanted to teach you? Groom you for his organization, his team no less? The one with Sans and Alphys on the sneaky-beaky floor doing sneaky-beaky science stuff?

Poor guy had no warning, you just launched over the table and latched onto him and burst into tears. No more stupid grocery store job? You could learn, you could be taught in an environment that wasn’t an impersonal as a classroom? Good gods, you could care less if you still had to work at the club here and there! It didn’t matter, you might not even have to keep doing that if you worked hard enough. Your arms tightened around his shoulders, barely even aware of how tense the monster was, sobbing against his neck.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll do my best, I promise! I-I’ll try really hard! I will! I lo-love learning, college just didn’t work out, a-and I couldn’t afford to go back, and, and-!!”

You couldn’t get any other words out, though you were aware of Gaster’s hand awkwardly patting your back. Not quite the reaction he was expecting, no. But nor could he understand it, either, and he would acknowledge that in its entirety. The only true financial insecurity he had faced in life was during the war and after being banished to the Underground, and even then, only until he had the CORE up and running. He would let you cry, let you cling, allow you this little moment of happiness. Far be it from him to be so cruel as to deny you it.

“First rule, no more of this crying, girl.”  
“Yes, sir!”

At least once you calmed down, dinner was far from being an awkward affair. A pun war between you and Sans, groans from the other two to punctuate your shared cackles of glee. And, with it being late long before anyone was ready to leave the table, you’d been given a blanket and pillow and told to go lay down on the couch.

In time, this would become one of your fondest memories.  
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear reader, there’s still plenty more to be made.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still highkey flustered over the fact ppl are? reading? this fanfic? people are liking it??? ive goT COMMENTS? hot doggity dog! am luv u. thank. i actually dont even know how to react to seeing this fic get kudos and comments and hits? like. thats wild. first time ive ever mustered up the courage to post any kind of fanfic on this site bcuz this site is full of so many quality stories im kinda intimidated ahah ;v; im super happy to know that im doing well!! even if i do end up editing each chapter 50 million times bcuz i keep catching typos no matter how much i proof read kfjkfdjkdfjfdk
> 
> anywho! ill try to get another chapter up tomorrow, but no promises! im gonna be on the road most of the day. heading back home for an extended holiday visit and im not sure if i'll have the energy for writing once i get there, ahah. rest assured ill still be planning out the next chapter so itll be put up quickly once i can write tho! im always going to be endlessly pleased that once presented w/ gaster's goofy sprite we all unanimously went "daddy" so i can get away w/ self insert fanfic pffff. i will absolutely be drawing my take on gaster and posting it up somewhere for reference. probs on tumblr. my personal is giomunni if u guys wanna message me or im me or w/e. art sideblog is apathineuros but pls god dont judge anything on there i havent uploaded super recent art much at all lately ;v;
> 
> fun sidenote: my headcanon voice for gaster is alan rickman. this gaster sounds like him. u guys should...definitely look up his reading of sonnet 130 for g's voice. so velvety. so smooth. so deep. perfect.

You’d managed to get three hours of sleep after struggling to get comfortable on the couch, eyes opening like clockwork and sitting up with a yawn. A glance at your phone indicated it was a little before eleven at night, and after a brief flash panic over being late to work, you calmed back down. Right, you didn’t have to go in tonight. It didn’t take long to notice the living room wasn’t dark at all, dimly illuminated by one of the fluorescent lights in the kitchen. Quietly, you watched as Gaster poured coffee into a mug, tired seeming as a disembodied hand held a clipboard in front of his face.

Shrugging the borrowed blanket off, you got up, padding your way into the kitchen and sitting at one of the tall stools sitting in front of the counter island. “Can’t sleep, Doctor? Or...?” He jumped almost comically high when you spoke, whipping around to stare at you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to rattle your bones.” Grinning, you rested your elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm. Sheer willpower alone kept you from giggling at the disgusted look your pun earned you, and he went back to reading his notes. “I apologize if I woke you.” Judging by his disinterested tone of voice, he wasn’t sorry at all.

“Nah, my internal clock wakes me up right around now anyways. I’d normally be rushing to my other job. Off tonight, though.” Your feet swung idly under where you sat, nowhere close to touching the floor. Everything in the house was modeled for tall monsters, something you attributed to Papyrus’ and Gaster’s height. Didn’t seem to bother Sans too much, though...then again, nothing ever seemed to bother him unless someone caught an attitude with Papyrus. Bless that wonderful skeleton’s heart, he never noticed, and if he did, he just kept on radiating kindness. After only getting a hum of vague acknowledgment, you spent a few moments to think to yourself.

“Hey, Doc? Do you...remember the online seminars about souls and soul magic you used to do, right after the barrier broke?” It was a timid venture, and then Gaster finally looked your way again. “I do, though interest died out over time and I stopped holding them. Why do you ask?” His gaze sidled back to his work, but at least now you knew he was listening to you. “I watched them, all of them. Y’know, the point system you had in place so people could unlock extra reading material for free if they watched the live streams? You, uh...kind of...put the brakes on the whole thing right before I could read the last case study file you had as a reward.” You leaned over to lay one arm on the counter, almost pouting when you rested your chin against it, other hand raising so your fingertip could trace patterns over marble.

“...can I...I mean, is it still available? I mean, can I read it? It was really hard for me to understand much of the stuff you talked about, but I liked reading all your notes and observations. You word things better in uh, in writing than speaking.” Or, rather, you had a hard time processing auditory information. When you could read something, see the words, let your lips form them yourself, that’s what helped information stick. Another reason why you’d preferred self guided study over college, anyways. “Not to say you’re a bad talker, erh, speaker? Teacher? I just don’t really...I can’t understand stuff very well if it’s said out loud. My brain doesn’t get it.”

You could feel his gaze on you, now, but you refused to raise your eyes to meet his. He’d already said he was going to tutor you, phrased in a way that made it sound like a paid internship more than anything, so you felt like you were asking for too much. “Your writing is different, though. Precise and detailed, but you never use too many words. Y’ain’t superfluous or anything, you always used exactly what needed to be used. I, uh...saved all the ones I unlocked, back when you still did it. Original and translated ones. Learning your variation on the wing dings font from Sans helped me read them. The original ones are my favorites.”

Blinking owlishly as a fresh mug of coffee was put in front of you, you sat up properly, only watching as Gaster leaned against the counter in front of you. “You may read it, yes. And it was a good idea to bring your learning style to my attention.” He took a drink of his coffee, and you mirrored the action, hiding a smile behind the ceramic at the almost praise. “I can kinda get it if you talk. Just, uh...I dunno. In college, it was difficult. Lots of information all at once, y’know? The professors were always answering other questions about different things and I got it all mixed up. I think I just get mentally overloaded? I need one thing at a time to focus on.”

Another drink and you look down again, going back to your little mental game of drawing on the counter top. “I can use multiple formulas to solve a single, complex equation, for example. But I can’t learn more than one formula at a time, does that make sense? I, erh...got in trouble a few times throughout my educational career, in math classes. Never could get farther than basic algebra, even in after school tutoring in high school and stuff. The teachers didn’t understand what I meant by that. I just...I need lots of practice, things to read, and focused guidance. So, uh...just a warning that, y’know. I’m not an easy student, so I guess I’m saying sorry ahead of time.” You winced as you said those words, vaguely remembering how disappointed your teachers and mom had been in you every time you failed to bring your grades up.

“A student failing to learn despite putting forth their best efforts is a reflection of the teacher, not the student.” It was an admonishment of sorts, Gaster setting his clipboard aside to focus on you. After all, this was information he needed in order to properly structure his lessons for you. “If you require a singular approach as opposed to other more conventional methods, then we will plan the sessions accordingly. Your lack of understanding is no fault of your own, if I am to believe you did try, if your teachers would not meet you halfway by using what worked for you in return. Everybody’s mind operates differently, everyone processes information in their own ways.” He seemed to catch onto the fact you couldn’t tell whether or not you were being lectured or comforted, and his lips quirked into a brief smirk.

“I was like that, myself. I could learn quickly, I devoured more information than anyone around me, but I could not do so all at once. I may not have been at par with my peers at first, but in due time, I had completely mastered all of the subjects they only had a basic grasp on. Do you know why that is?” Gaster asked you, and you managed to look at him again, slowly shaking your head ‘no’. “Because I took my time. I was patient. I made sure I completely and thoroughly understood every little bit of what I was learning instead of worrying that I was falling behind. If I wanted to make sure I understood something in terms of say, grammar and syntax, then I would focus only on that and I wouldn’t rush myself in other areas.”

Now you were finally really looking at him again, no longer embarrassed and only stealing quick glances. Did he really used to be like you? The man was a genius, a master in god knows how many different fields, always working on the next biggest and greatest thing. It didn’t seem probable that he’d only been able to focus at one thing at a time, too. Not with how he worked now. “What I am saying, [Y/N], you may only be able to learn piece by piece, but once you do have all those pieces, you’ll be able to complete your puzzle. You do not solve a jigsaw by smashing fistfuls of pieces down, do you? No. You go little by little, laying out your framework and putting together the parts that are easiest for you first.”

“Once you have your foundation, the rest of it comes together just as easily. Sometimes you complete little sections or clusters and then attach it to the rest later. But either way, you have a final product, no? These things take time and patience. And if you can only go with one piece at a time, that is nothing to be ashamed of. I often find that those who rush or try to complete puzzles all at once only grow frustrated and give up because they simply cannot finish it. Think of your approach to learning like a puzzle, dear girl. Be patient, take your time, do what you can, and the rest will come together before your very eyes much quicker than you think.”

Huh...so, that happened. W. D. Gaster, scientist extraordinaire, kind of a cynical grump, was actually offering some sort of bizarre comfort. You didn’t miss how he took his time breaking that long winded explanation down, either, he must have kept in mind you were easily confused by things like that. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you rubbed at the back of your neck before taking a drink of your coffee. “I, uh...can’t think of a pun in response to that, y’know, it’s all too puzzling.” You didn’t bother hiding your grin when he abruptly groaned and immediately snapped back to his work. “But really, thanks. I kind of...don’t feel stupid, now?” He only grumbled something unintelligible at you in response, though he seemed pleased either way.

Maybe having him teach you wouldn’t be half as scary as it seems. Of course, that depends entirely on how patient of a teacher he was. You knew you could be a frustrating pupil at the best of times, you liked coming up with your own way to solve problems. It wasn’t intentional, no, you just tended to take what you learned and simplify it into something you could process much easier. But if he was willing to work with you, then you’d do your best to try things his way, too. One step at a time, you supposed. Or, as he said...

One puzzle piece at a time.

\-------------------------------------

The next time you woke it was because the sun had started to rise and there was no such thing as curtains in this house, apparently. Groaning as you opened your eyes and was promptly blinded by the sun, you jerked the blanket up over your head and curled into a tight ball. Just until your nose registered the distinct smell of bacon, slowly peeking out to see Papyrus back in the kitchen and Gaster at the dining table with the morning newspaper. Christ, had he even gotten any sleep? Speaking of sleep, you couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten so much, what with work and...

“Sugar honey iced tea!!” In a flurry up activity, you shot up from the couch, feet getting tangled and sending you careening to the ground. Your chin hit the hard floor and you consequently bit the shit out of your tongue, but you only wriggled free and got right back up. All the commotion certainly caught both monsters’ attention, Gaster only arching a nonexistent brow and going back to his paper, Papyrus bolting to your side. “[Y/N]! GOOD MORNING! Are you alright? Breakfast is ready!” Up you went and despite your struggle to get away, you weren’t free until he’d plopped you into a chair. “Sorry, Paps, but I really gotta go, I’m late for work.” Scooting the chair back out, you got up, mildly disgusted by how dirty you felt from sleeping in your work clothes to begin with.

“OH...” It tugged at your heartstrings to see him looking so crestfallen, so you pulled him into a hug, patting his back. Erh, spine? Pat, pat. “I recall telling you to quit last night.” Folding newspaper caught your attention as Gaster dropped it on the table, fixating you with a deadpan stare as he drank his coffee. “Well, yeah, but...I gotta put in my two weeks notice and still go in, y’know?” You felt like shrinking under that look, unwilling to let go of Papyrus as if he’d shield you from judgment, though he still sprang back into the kitchen proper. “And why would that be?” Another long sip from his mug, still staring you down. “...uh, because it looks bad to quit out of the blue? And the managers need time to divvy up my shifts for the month and hire a replacement...?” Sure, people quit outright all the time, but you knew firsthand how much chaos that kind of stunt caused.

“You’re having your first lesson today. In roughly...,” he looked at his wristwatch, “an hour. I suggest you decide which is more important.” What? Oh, that asshat. Figures he wouldn’t be half as understanding about anything as he was last night. You stood in silence, staring one another down, just until Papyrus happily set several plates full of food down on the table. “Eat up! I’m going to go get Sans!” Watching as he left, you looked at the one that was obviously meant for you, and slowly sat down. Man, you were going to end up feeling sick if you kept eating regular food instead of ramen. As if the universe wanted to lob even more pressure on you, your cellphone began buzzing in your pocket, and you winced. Sure enough, the caller I.D. was popping up as ‘HELLFIRE’. Undoubtedly whoever was shift manager calling to bitch at you for not being at work yet.

Seems Gaster had a pretty good idea on who was on the other line, too, and you felt yourself shrinking in your seat. Exhaling sharply, you answered, bringing your cell up to your ear. “Hello? Oh, hey, Michelle. Uh...no, no I’m not coming in today, I, erh...” Should you say you feel sick? No, lying would only get you in trouble, and you had a feeling your onlooker wouldn’t be happy about it either. “Actually, I...I quit. I know, I’m sorry it’s such short notice, but something, erh, popped up. Sorry again, thanks, you too.” Hitting the end button, your forehead promptly dropped onto the table with a dull smack, and you groaned. You’re officially in it to win it, now. No going back, you had to rely on Gaster’s impromptu internship to get by. Goodie, goodie. Lucky you.

You heard him take in a breath to say something, and you raised a finger without lifting your head a single inch. “No, shut the hell your mouth, Mr. Skeledad. That was a dick move and you know it.” Slowly sitting back up again, you frowned down at your bacon and eggs. “...tell Paps I said sorry but I’m not hungry, and tell Sans I said good morning if they aren’t here in an hour. I need to run home and take a shower and put on clothes that don’t feel like they’ve been chilling on a corpse for a few years.” And a wake n’ bake was sorely needed if you were going to be able to focus worth a damn, lord knows you’d end up easily distracted and hyperactive otherwise. Without another word, you got up, found your shoes and your bag and walked out.

That dick could have at least told you last night that you’d be starting today. You would have made sure to set an early alarm so you could go in to work before the store opened and give the manager a heads up that you wouldn’t be there. It was truck day, they needed all the stockers in that they could get. Man, you should’ve set an alarm anyways, but you figured your body would wake you up on time. Maybe it was the coffee last night that messed with you? Last night...as much as you wanted to be pissed at Gaster, you couldn’t. You’d probably even apologize once you got back for snapping at him like that. He didn’t have to offer to take you under his wing, he didn’t have to agree to let you read that case file, he didn’t have to make you feel better about yourself, he certainly didn’t have to show you any civility at all.

Note to self, get your crabby early morning temper under control. 

Especially if all of your tutoring sessions were going to be bright and early. Gaster doesn’t strike you as the sort to take kindly to disrespect for any reason. And you were pretty sure, if not for your awkward advice at first, you’d definitely already be shit out of luck. Right, so, maybe instead of kissing your old manager’s ass to keep you job, you should kiss Gaster’s just a little bit. You had a hell of a lot more riding on this one, after all. Your entire life could change, a future you were positive you’d spend struggling and miserable could instead be the stuff of dreams. You could do nothing but learn for a living, that’s what scientists and researchers did, right? Always pushing to discover something new, make something better, always evolving and learning?

In some ways, it didn’t even feel real. You weren’t even sure how you were managing to act so casually around the guy. He’s a world renowned genius, for Christ’s sake! A research paper you’d done while still in college was all about him, and even that had barely scratched the surface. So much has already been offered to the world, and most of it was because of him and his team. And he thought someone like you had the potential for that? You, who barely scraped by in high school? You, who dropped out of college (even if you had legitimate reasons)? It should be a confidence boost, and in some ways it was, but...part of you felt angry with yourself, too. Had you somehow accidentally tricked him into thinking you were something you weren’t?

Sure, you could solve problems you knew nothing about, but that’s only because you knew how to fit pieces of information together and fill in the blanks. It wasn’t anything special. You could just...see holes in logic and supplement them. You didn’t know how or why you could do it, you were just good at it. And it wasn’t necessarily anything science related, either. People problems, emotional stuff, you could find solutions for those, too. Answering questions for people was what you did, you couldn’t think of any of your friends that didn’t come running to you when they needed advice. You were everyone’s problem solver.

Not that you minded, goodness, no. It was nice to be needed and to know people trusted you enough to come to you before they went to anyone else. But a niggling sense of self doubt just wondered if you’d be able to live up to Gaster’s expectations. He obviously thought you could do it, he wouldn’t be wasting his time with some nobody like you otherwise. But did you think you could do it? Did you have that weird sense of faith in yourself? You’d already strapped yourself in for this wild ride, you told yourself you’d give it you all. It was a question of how far you’d go if you couldn’t even believe in yourself, you always were your own undoing. You were always your own biggest obstacle in life. You always got in the way of your own happiness.

Solving problems and self sabotage, your fucking fortes. “Ugh.” You kicked at a dandelion puff that’d sprouted up along the sidewalk as you kept going, the bus stop in sight. “Enough.” Patting your cheeks with your hands, you squared your shoulders. No more of this, damn it. No fucking more of this. You refused to ruin this for yourself, there was no way in hell you would. Even if you don’t believe in yourself now, you’d make yourself believe in yourself. Hell, you’ll stand in front of a mirror every morning and give yourself a motivational pep talk if you have to. Because even if you don’t have too much confidence in yourself right now, W. D. fucking Gaster does, and that means something.

Your mind was made up as you plopped down onto a sheltered bench to wait. You’d go home, freshen up, and when you got back, you’d apologize. For insulting him and sounding so ungrateful. And you’d thank him again, and keep thanking him for what he was doing by being the best you could possibly be for him.

“I’ve got this.”

Note to self, do not talk to self in public, it makes old ladies stare at you funny.

\-------------------------------------

It was almost like he knew you were there before you even had a chance to ring the doorbell, opening the door just as you were reaching for it. Well...some of the walls were just reinforced windows, he’d obviously seen you walking up. Gaster only observed you in cold silence, the insult from earlier had undoubtedly turned his mood even more sour than it usually was. Swallowing thickly and ignoring how tight your throat felt, you didn’t let yourself look down in shame. Instead, you convinced yourself to maintain eye contact, even if it meant holding your head at an angle that’d lend itself to a sore neck later. Finding the right words to say was hard, and anxiety certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“I’m sorry for earlier, Doctor Gaster. I lashed out at you and I had no right to do that. You agreed to teach me, and pay me no less, and I know not just anyone gets that opportunity. I know this is a once in a life time sort of opportunity and you more than likely have an infinite number of people who’d kill to be in my shoes. I just...didn’t like being forced to compromise on my morals, nor did I like feeling like I was indirectly burdening anyone, and I took it out on you instead of acting like an adult.” You felt your ears burning, but at least his gaze was the slightest bit less intense. Still miffed, still almost painfully chilled, but he didn’t look like he wanted to eviscerate you on the spot anymore.

“I want to thank you again, for, y’know...even offering to teach me in the first place. You see something in me that I can’t quite see myself yet, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. I mean, dude, you’re...” You gestured up and down at him with both of your hands, offering him a tiny smile. “You’re it. You’re W. D. Gaster. And if you think I’d make a good scholar, then damn it all, I’ll try my hardest. And if you’ll still teach me, I would be honored to learn from you. If not, uh...I think I left my phone charger in Papyrus’ room, can I still come in so I can go grab it?” He seemed to be getting less and less close to throwing some sort of diabolical temper tantrum the more you spoke, until the end part. Throwing his hands up in frustration, he exhaled sharply, turning on his heels and motioning for you to follow him in.

“You insufferable brat. Yes, yes, go get your charger, then come back down here and take a seat. I have some placement tests you need to complete so I can determine where, exactly, we need to start. Go, don’t dawdle. I am a monster who enjoys punctuality.”

Stifling a giggle against your hand, you darted off to do as told.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to have this up yesterday on halloween itself but i uhhhh started partying early in the day and that didnt happen ouo;; sorry for the wait! i made this chapter a little bit longer than usual to try and make up for it ahah ;u;

You had decided to start with math, reasoning that it was your worst subject and you’d rather it get done with than end up worrying about it while taking the other tests. Gaster found nothing wrong with your reasoning, taking the English literature pamphlet away and pushing the mathematics one in front of you instead. Part of you hoped that since you knew for a fact you’d get every answer right on the English lit. one, it’d make him not quite as disappointed in you as could be. Then again, that was a bit of a stretch, he’d been in dead serious mode after you both took a smoke break to get the day started.

Cynical and detached, even a bit cold, but you didn’t let it get to you. This had to be workplace Gaster, the professional persona. Not that it was too far off from his typical demeanor, no, but casual Gaster at least showed some smidgen of emotion (even that was grumpiness). Reminding yourself you’d have to get used to it, especially if you ended up working with him, you buckled in and prepared to do your best. He had been kind enough to say you didn’t have a time limit, so long as all of them were finished by the day was out, though you still felt like the pressure was on. Half an hour later and you’d barely managed to get a handful of problems done.

A piece of scratch paper was covered in your work, ears burning as you felt him watching you and how you worked. If you got an answer to a question, you would rework it a few times over using different methods. Only when each one gave you the same answer, a definite one, would you accept it as the correct answer. Of course, it didn’t work for all of them, so you would work your way through it the only fashioned way. Piece by piece, arduous and slow, but you refused to skip any of the questions. Not with him watching you, judging you, waiting for you to finish. As you kept on going, every inch of space, front and back, was taken up on your paper. You didn’t have the courage to ask him for another piece, sinking down in your chair and resolving to imagining a whiteboard in your mind to work on.

You must’ve looked funny, occasionally stopping with your fingertip mocking writing over the table in front of you, lips silently moving along with your motions. Not that you’d risk so much as looking at him, not with how you were struggling to get the test done. If you had, you might’ve seen that his expression was one of quiet contemplation, not the cold disgust you were imagining. Struggling as you were, he thought, you at least hadn’t given up. People often caved in when confronted with challenge, done in by that wall, and he knew more than a few noteworthy applicants ended up frustrated with his tests. Not because of the material itself, no, Gaster knew well enough that most of them would’ve been more than qualified.

It was how he devised his tests, phrased them, intentionally made each one a mess to muddle through. Of course, his little placement tests were no where near being on the same level as the others. The smallest mistake would result in a wrong answer, but every wrong answer was available as a choice. But you didn’t have an over inflated ego to blind you to your work. No, you revised, you double checked, you made sure you were giving the right answer. Even if you still got the wrong answer every other question, you still reworked it over and over again to make sure it fit. Too many times he had people clamoring for a position on his team, with him, and in some blind attempt to dazzle him, hadn’t so much as touched their scratch paper by the end of the tests. That immediately disqualified them.

With the nature of his work, one needed to be meticulous, one needed to acknowledge they could be wrong and be willing to do the work to make sure the answer fit instead of taking the first answer they get. Something that made working with peers invaluable, getting everybody’s input on a matter. Being too foolhardy could prove dangerous, life threatening, in his lab. He should know. Still, Gaster pushed the memories that threatened to surge forth to the back of his mind, a disembodied hand placing a fresh piece of paper down in front of you. You jumped upon seeing it, looking up at him with wide eyes, only to relax when he needed primly at you. Swallowing your anxiety, you pulled it closer, settling back down into work.

It ultimately took you three hours to get the math test done, though you had breezed through the fractions. Did you know how to do them? Nope, but it did come down to common sense. Once you finished, you were quiet as you looked over your answers, worrying your lower lip between your teeth as you slid it over to him. Taking it up, it was kept in place on his clipboard, and Gaster got to his feet. “I need to go to work. We’ll continue this tomorrow.” The rest of everything was gathered up by some of his extra hands, and you were nervous as you stood, rubbing at the back of your neck . “Uh, alright. So, I’ll just head home for the day, then? Have a good time at work.” You wished you could come along with him, but you held your tongue.

Sans only brought you with him when his dad wasn’t in, after all. Sure, now Gaster knew about all that, but that didn’t mean he was okay with it. “I doubt I need to see you out.” Making a ‘shoo’ gesture with his hand, he took another step and vanished before his foot hit the floor. You didn’t care any, Sans did it all the time. Gathering up your bag and getting your shoes on, you sighed as you opened the front door. Locking the bottom one, you can’t do anything about the deadbolt, you slammed it shut behind you and headed off down the sidewalk. You supposed you could go home and get a nap in before it was time for work later that night. It was Halloween, wasn’t it? You were lucky you’d been able to book stage time at all. At least you’d be able to get away with wearing a mask during your routine, you’d practiced enough with it on.

Maybe people would be a bit more generous, or rather, drunk enough to be generous. It was fairly early in the evening, and not long after that, Alphys had invited you to a Halloween party the week prior. It’d been more of her stammering before thrusting an envelope at you, and after reading it, you readily agreed. You’d only read enough of it to gather that a costume was necessary, it definitely wasn’t kid friendly because there was an open bar, the date and time, and the location. Along with something about needing the invitation to be let in. You were a bit excited about it, you’d put a painstaking amount of time into making a costume last year you’d never gotten to wear. Got called into work and all that jazz, people needed help putting out more candy to keep up with demand.

Either way, you needed to get home and get some rest before tonight.

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You were a bit more tired than you’d like to admit once you’d dragged yourself home from the club. Feet throbbing from the stilettos you’d been wearing for the past hour or two, not including walking to and from, body aching, but there was still that spark of excitement that kept you from pulling a no show. If Alphys was there, then Sans would be, too. Maybe you’d get to meet the rest of their friends? You wouldn’t say no to expanding your little circle, truth be told, you got lonely sometimes. Work had always kept you from being able to have much of a social life. But for the time being, you only had tutoring sessions to worry about, and that left you with more hours in the day than you knew what to do with. You didn’t really quite know how to fill that time yet, maybe with more studying?

Or if Gaster would be paying you more than your grocery store job had, you might be able to make it a once a week treat to walk down to that cute cafe on the corner for breakfast. You never had before, you couldn’t justify the unnecessary expenditure. Your teat for yourself was a cheap bottle of vodka every few nights and being able to afford your cannabis. Stupid overpriced dispensaries. You’d get it cheaper from a street dealer, but you didn’t really know any in the area. Ah, well, best to get cannabis you know isn’t laced with anything else. Better safe than sorry and all that jazz, right? Still, you took a quick shower to get all the dried sweat off of your skin, and you would dig through your closet for an unassuming chest. The most money you’d ever spent all at once in your entire life, and it was on fabric and things of the like.

Pulling the chest out into the open, you took a breath as you pulled the lid up, internally praying no moths had gotten into in the year it’d been put away. A smile played across your face as you pulled the gown out and straightened up with it. The bodice was more of a corset, dark blue and covered in shiny green sequins. Your favorite part was the skirts, flaring out in bouncy blue and green panels, a hint of gold at the bottom. It had a small train of faux peacock feathers attached at the back of the corset, just enough to slightly drag behind you, with more at the top to work as an attached shawl. Last but not least, of course, was a half mask. A glittery peacock face meant to sit on the bridge of your nose, black lace to tie it back behind your head, with another stream of fake feathers carefully glued to both corners. Fancy pants costume and you wanted to wear it already, lord knows you’d pricked your fingers enough times in the months it took you to make.

Shimmying into it and miraculously managing to zip up the back all on your own, you threw on some make up. Cheap gold blush over your cheekbones and down your nose, dark green eyeliner with matching blue shadow, white mascara. You settled on a dark shade of purple for your lips after lining them with more green. All in all, it looked almost surreal, but the mask would be on most of the night anyways. Taking in a deep breath to settle your nerves as you shoved your feet in a short pair of black heels, you snatched your ever present bag up and checked for your invitation before heading out. If it wasn’t already dark out, you might’ve gotten quite a few looks. The only stragglers still out were the teenagers hitting each house that thought it safe to leave their candy bowls out once the trick or treating hours were long over with. Some stumbling between apartment buildings, going from one party to the next.

You still stood out, all things considered with your ensemble, but you didn’t let your anxiety sink its claws in. No small amount of effort went into this costume, you were proud of it, and like hell if you weren’t going to wear it out for the night. You managed to wave a taxi down, carefully getting in and setting your messenger bag on your lap. It sure as hell didn’t match your gown, but hell if you cared. Keeping your bag made you feel a little better, part of you wondered if it wasn’t some sort of comfort item. The driver gave you a little look when you told him the address, though said nothing as he started driving. He was gracious enough to put on some music when you asked, pleased with the oldies station he seemed to keep it on. Resigning yourself to staring out of the window, fingertips tapping against your knees, you daydreamed the whole ride there.

The first thing to pull you out of your mental bubble was the sound of loud music bumping, and you finally looked out the other. Huh, when had you gotten into this ritzy neighborhood? The sort of place that just reeked old money or celebrity. Sure, the skeleton family lived in a very nice neighborhood, but it wasn’t this kind of nice. Theirs was at least still practical. But this was obviously where the sort of people who could just throw money away like it was nothing lived. The massive home had a sprawling yard, fenced in with an automatic gate at the front. Speaking of, your taxi driver pulled over a bit away from the turn in, staring at you. If it weren’t for all the costumed people you could see in the cars queuing up, and a double look at your invitation, you would’ve assumed you were in the wrong place.

Suddenly, your fancy costume was a life saver. You couldn’t imagine how you’d have worked up the courage to walk up in something cheap and store bought. Of course, some people and monsters were without a care in the world, but you were the self conscious sort. Numbly handing over your taxi fare, your legs felt weak as you got out, bag slung over your shoulder and pushing the door closed. As he drove off, you found your courage, walking up to the gate and ignoring the looks you were getting. Timidly holding your invitation out, you watched as the...would she be considered a bouncer? The bouncer looked it over and waved you through the gate. You almost worried about having to walk up that long ass drive way, but someone was already coming down in a golf cart. Must be others walking in, too. Too flustered to say anything other than a ‘thank you’ as you sat down, you kept your bag held against your chest, thankful the mask hid most of your reddened face.

You had to show your invitation again at the front door, perhaps the last time you needed it, since it wasn’t handed back to you. Taking in a deep breath to calm your nerves, you walked in, almost flinching at how much louder it was inside. Typical party music, stuff that was easy to dance to, and more humans n’ monsters than you’d ever seen together at once. You could only place a few familiar faces here and there, mostly other regulars at Grillby’s, and you saw Sans for a moment as he was casually working his way through the crowd. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you made your way around the outside of the group, finding a corner to stand in and watch from afar. You didn’t even want to go for the open bar if it meant having to get through that crowd, sending a glance down at your dress skirts with a heavy sigh.

 

Some ungodly tall gentleman in a plague doctor get up was the first to approach you, posture prim and proper, holding a hand out to you. Not a single word spoken. But you slowly reached out, placing your hand in his, a little smile gracing your lips. Something about how he held himself was familiar, including his height, but you couldn’t place it just yet. “Would you like help navigating this mess?” His voice was muffled, but distinct enough. “Oh! Doctor Gaster, I’d’ve never taken you for the partying sort. But yeah, that’d be dope, I’m kinda...” You shrugged your shoulders, lips pursing for a moment, “not good in crowds.” He stiffened only momentarily at the mention of his name, but upon realizing it was you, he relaxed a tidbit. “My sons are here. This is not the type of party I would leave them unattended at, adults or not. Mettaton’s bashes are known to get...rowdy.” Wait, wait, wait, did he say Mettaton? Oh dear lord.

“...wha...this is Mettaton’s party? God’s nightgown, I didn’t really even read the invitation, Alphys gave it to me so I just assumed it was her party-” Deep breaths, calm down, don’t have a panic attack in front of all these people. “Can you just, uh, show me where the bar is? Once I get a few shots in, I’ll be fine. Liquid courage and all that jazz. Might slip outside at some point and smoke.” You could just tell Gaster was rolling his eyes under that mask of his, though he still lead the way. “I’m sure Mettaton will be accosting you at some point. Alphys speaks highly of you, he’ll want to meet you because of her if nothing else. He was intrigued enough to write an invitation for you, after all. But I must warn you, he can be...” Gaster’s free hand moved in circles as he thought, before snapping, “obnoxious. Very hands on, accidentally lewd, very high energy. Quite the diva. Not someone you would want to have a cup of coffee with in the mornings.” His description of the party’s host made you giggle a bit, grinning.

“Yeah, I figured that much out from watching some of his movies, with the, uh, behind the scenes extras and bloopers.” You nervously rubbed at the back of your neck, pleased with how your feather shawl moved with the motion. What? It was nice to feel pretty sometimes. “I think he’s probably still really chill in his own way, y’know, when there aren’t cameras pointed at him.” Gaster only snorted at your weak defense of the star, undoubtedly writing you off as another fangirl. Not that there was anything wrong with someone being passionate about something, you thought, and Mettaton did have a very likable persona. But you wouldn’t class yourself as a die hard fan or anything like that, you just enjoyed his work. As lost in your thoughts as you were, you barely noticed when Gaster came to a stop, blinking at him. Or, rather, at his mask. “Oh, thanks, Mr. Skeleda-Doctor Gaster.”

Oh, you could feel his withering glare behind that leather, and you giggled at him. Taking your hand back from his, you leaned on the bar, waiting on the bartender to finish tending to the other guests. A grin settled on your features when you saw it was Grillby. Good, you didn’t trust anyone else to make mixed drinks even half as good as him. Noticing you, he silently tilted his head in greeting before going about making your usual. There was a certain kind of happiness that comes with having your favorite drink put down in front of you, and yours was a drink called Vixen. Light green and garnished with a small lime wedge, and utterly delicious. “Thanks a ton, Grillbz, you’re really on fire with your drinks.” You made double finger guns and made an ‘ayyy’ noise under your breath. Beside you, Gaster groaned as if he was in sheer agony, and Grillby’s hair only flickered in amusement.

“...I suspect you would like your usual as well, Doctor?” That had you blinking at Gaster’s mask yet again. He actually went to Grillby’s? Mister high and mighty and oh so grumpy? Huh. “You would be correct.” Sighing, the taller monster dragged an empty stool closer and sat down on it. “Hey, Grillbz, how did you know it was us? I mean, mask n’ makeup, and Doctor Gaster’s whole dang head is covered up. Like, damn son, how are you able to see anything with that on? Those goggles look way too dark to be functional.” You gestured at him with one hand as you spoke, your other bringing your drink to your lips once you were done talking. Again, you could feel his glare, and Gaster took the time to explain it to you so Grillby wouldn’t have to talk again. “Soul sensing. Some monsters are inherently capable of it, though a small handful of humans have managed to learn how to do so as well. We do not have to see you if we can feel you.”

Oh. Well, that made sense, and it also explained why you could never manage to sneak up on Sans for any pranks. “I gotcha.” Another healthy swallow of your drink, and you turned to look out over the mass of bobbing dancers and generally happy people. You felt out of place, in a way. Most parties you stuck with your friends, either in a corner or outside smoking. You were a bit alone here, what with Grillby working and, well, Gaster wasn’t exactly friendly. Part of you hoped you’d be able to find your friends soon, at any rate, swallowing thickly before downing the rest of your drink. Leaving the empty glass on the counter and nodding at the two you knew, you carefully braved the crowd in search of a familiar face. Yep, too many people, time to pray you don’t have a panic attack or something along those lines.

Holding your breath, you veered back out of the dancing crowd, exhaling slowly once you were free. “Oh my!” Oh no. You knew that voice. Anxiety started welling up as you slowly turned, thankful your mask hid how wide your eyes were. That’s Mettaton alright. Aware your lips had parted slightly with your surprise, you closed them again, awkwardly clearing your throat. “I, uhm...sup, bruh?” Really, [Y/N]? “Thanks for the invite, the party is lit.” Why is it that you default to being almost painfully casual around important people? Someone was bound to take that as an insult some day, or you being rude, or something. Luckily, it didn’t seem like Mr. Superstar took a lick of offense to it, only giving you a weird look before grinning. “Well, of course it is, darling!” Preening and almost seeming to pose, he studied you closely.

“Your costume is lovely, and by the stars, your makeup! My, I have to know, who put all of this together for you? I have GOT to get their number, darling!” You couldn’t tell if he was just being nice or not, and you subconsciously pulled your feathered shawl around yourself tighter. “Uhm...I-I did. This is, uh, my work.” He seemed to light up at that, crooning and using a finger to play with some of the peacock feathers trailing from your mask. “Do you take commissions? I would love something this...STUNNING for one of my performances!” Man, you were positive what was visible of your face and chest was burning cherry red by now. “I, uhm...n-no, not really. Sorry, mang. I do it for fun, if I, uh, tried to do it as like, work or something, I think I’d end up hating it.”

That, and you didn’t want to focus on anything other than Gaster’s lessons and studying. Mettaton seemed to deflate at that, pouting at you. “Uhm, but, like, if I ever have some free time, I could just...maybe make you one as a present or something?” Judging by how quickly he was back to oozing flamboyance, you could swear he was being manipulative. Ah, well, you already said you’d maybe do it. Too late to back out, now. “Oh, would you? Thank you, darling! But what’s your name, dear?” A fingertip tilted your chin up and lifted your mask so he could get a good look at your face, and you felt like a deer caught in head lights. It probably showed on your face too, though he seemed enraptured by your makeup, tilting your head this way and that.

“It’s, uh...it’s [Y/N], I’m friends with Alphys.” You were happy when he finally withdrew his hand, clasping both of his together in excitement. Meanwhile, you hurriedly righted your mask, and took the slightest step away from him to regain your personal space. “You are? Oh, I should have known! She thinks very highly of you, you know!” And now he was hugging you. Dear lord, you were not ready for someone who was as touchy-feely as Papyrus. But at least Papyrus could tell when you were feeling overstimulated and needed personal space. Tensing up, you cautiously patted his back before awkwardly shrugging your way out of the embrace. “No offense, dude, but uh...chill with the touching, aight? I don’t know you like that.” Uncomfortable, your fingers took to playing with your dress skirts, unwilling to make eye contact.

“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry, darling! My, I’m so used to people throwing themselves at me, I just prefer to take the first punch!” Well, that explained a lot. Probably sated his fangirls and kept them hooked, at any rate. “Nah, don’t worry about it. So, uh...where is Alphys? Or is Sans around here somewhere? I know Papyrus must be, he loves every chance he gets to make new friends.” You looked around as you spoke, and Mettaton hummed, tapping his chin with his fingertip. “You know, darling, I think Alphys is with Undyne. Sans must be back at the bar again, trying to flirt his way into Grillby’s heart with his ridiculous puns. Papyrus was at the ping pong table last I saw, such a cutie.” Oho, did Mr. Superstar have himself a crush? Sans’ thing for Grillby was old news, everybody knew about it except for Grillby himself. And Alphys was busy with her girlfriend...man, you couldn’t wait to meet her!

“Hm...well...I suppose I’ll go find Doctor Gaster and shadow him.” You made to step away, though Mettaton grabbed your arm. Ugh, didn’t you just say to stop touching you? In his defense, he did let go immediately once you turned to face him. “Nonsense, darling! He’s so stuffy and boring! Come, now, why don’t you have a grand time with me, dear?” His tone was sugary sweet and sincere, but man, you didn’t know if you could party with someone like him. Sure, you had a built up tolerance for most things, but you were pretty sure celebrities were into more than just weed and alcohol. “U-uh...I’m not good company, I mean, I get nervous and say weird shit. And Gaster is not stuffy or boring!” You planted your hands on your hips and frowned up at the robot, one foot tapping against the floor.

“He’s a bit prickly, but...he’s great! He’s the smartest man I’ve ever met, and ever will meet! And, uhm, I’m sure he’s not boring! Maybe he just has, like, other interests or...and even if he doesn’t, being hella into science isn’t boring! I think it’s really, really cool and that he’s actually a very nice man! And-and...and...” You fell silent, turning red all over again with the little smirk on your new friend’s face. Oh no. You’d heard rumors that beside Sans and Frisk, Mettaton was the matchmaker to fear. “I, uhm, just respect him a lot, aight? So, uh...don’t get any funny ideas, you, or...or I’ll get a scuff mark on your shoe.” He only laughed at your half hearted threat, patting your head, “of course you will, darling. But for now, why don’t we hit the dance floor?” Was he being serious? “I, uh...don’t dance, not really. And I think I’m kind of in the wrong get up? Y’know, ballgown and all, I’d rather do something more classical in this. I’d probably feel like a princess, honestly...”

A contemplative look came over his face, and then he grinned widely. “How about you stay right here, darling? I’ve just had a fabulous idea!” Before you could even say anything, he had already walked away, easily bobbing and weaving through the crowd. Great, now what? Should you just wait, like he told you to? It didn’t seem like you had any other options, so you stayed put, sighing under your breath. Just until you were suddenly away of a spotlight shining directly on you, flinching though happy your mask helped filter it out. One other was shining, and you looked towards it, blanching when you took note of that plague doctor mask. Shit, shit, what did that asshole of a robot do? “Ladies and gentleman and those in between! Thank you all so much for coming out, darlings, it’s always such a treat to see all of you. But for now, I think we should have a very special dance!”

“The beautiful peacock there says she won’t dance unless its something classical. And the mysterious doctor over there, why, I’m quite certain he knows how to waltz! What do you say, dear, care to make a wonderful lady feel like a Halloween princess?” The silence that fell over the room, save for excited whispers and muffled giggles, was almost enough to make you stop breathing. There was no escaping this, so much attention was on you and Gaster, and you’d run away if you could. This was humiliating in every sense of the word, and you were certain he’d say no or do something that’d make you even more embarrassed. And yet the dance floor cleared up as Gaster slowly walked his way to you, hoping that music would start up again soon so you wouldn’t feel so awkward.

You wish he didn’t have that mask on, at least then you’d know whether or not he was mad at you or thought you did something. He bowed at the waist, offering you his hand, and you took it, allowing him to silently lead you out onto the dance floor. As you went, you took the chance to murmur “sorry about this, I didn’t put him up to it, and is Viennese waltz ok?” He barely nodded in response, letting go of your hand again once on the dance floor proper. Again, he bowed, and as you gave a curtsy in return, music started playing. Danse Macabre, rather fitting for the day. You met Gaster half way, expecting him to want to get the dance over with as quickly as possible. Good lord, he was so tall, the top of your head was barely even with the bottom of his chest. Not that it stayed a problem, he easily hoisted you up and the next thing you knew, you were standing just fine.

It was strange being eye level with the man, even stranger yet to know he’d summoned those extra hands of his to make sure you were comfortable. Goodness, his hands completely enveloped yours, and you could tell through your shoes that you balanced just fine on his palms alone and there was still more in case you shifted any. Taking in a deep breath and offering your somewhat boss a timid smile, you were off. His summoned hands easily kept up with every step you made, never once did you feel like you’d fall. It was easy to tune everything else out, dress fabrics billowing and flowing with each spinning twist made, feathers and all. “You’re good at this.” An idle compliment, and you heard him laugh in response. “I’ve had more experience with this than you’ve been alive, girl.” With ease he kept leading you around the floor, now somewhat aware that other couples had joined in the waltz.

“I’m sorry Mettaton put you on the spot like that, that really wasn’t chill. I feel kinda responsible...” Your gaze dropped, smile faltering. “Mettaton does what he pleases with little regard for others. I am not angry at you, child, do stop pouting.” What a jerk! You couldn’t tell who was the bigger one between him and that bucket of bolts. “I have a name, buddy.” You stuck your tongue out at him for a moment, only to squeak when he spun you out in response. Twirled back in again and you were dizzy, leaning against him for a second before you were back in the swing of things. “I do have to commend you on being able to somewhat keep up with me.” Gaster’s tone was light, however muffled his voice may be behind that mask. “Took an extra curricular class about dancing when I was still in college. I prefer faster paced things. Swing’s my favorite kind of dance, though.” “I see.”

While any words exchanged between the two of you were short and brief from then on out, you still smiled the entire time. Laughing and grinning like a fool as you danced, and yes, you felt like a princess the entire time. Even if you were still sore from working earlier, and even though Gaster intimidated you a fair bit, you were still having fun. More than you’d had in a long time, in fact. But all good things must come to an end, and the end of the song had him carefully putting you back down on your feet. Another bow and he turned sharply on his heels, walking away without a care in the world. That...burst your happy bubble a little bit, awkwardly holding yourself before hurriedly disappearing yourself. Sure, you didn’t expect to be considered his friend any time soon, but the cold treatment was a little harsh.

Some fresh air and a blunt sounded nice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops i havent updated in 5evr. im super sorry about that. mental n physical health started acting up at the same time n ive been focusing on my art for the past lil while. ill try to get back to updating this semi-frequently tho! but i do have an idea for a wrench x reader fic i might end up working on, too! also sorry this chapter isnt as long as the others ;v; i just wanted to give you guys at least something.

Not walking somewhere was strange, not having to ride the bus was even stranger, but you weren’t exactly going to complain when a certain flamboyant robot decided to drop you off. Most of the previous night was a blur after Mettaton discovered you were confidence given human form once you were fed enough drinks and certain old school hip hop songs started playing. You did remember having a ton of fun with dancing him and dragging a tipsy Alphys into it, though. Along with a hazy memory of her giant fish girlfriend straight up throwing you halfway across the room and right onto a pile of cushions established for that exact purpose. You could only piece together the rest by how you woke up that morning.

In a cuddle pile in an atrociously pink room with your favorite Gal Pals, Mr. Roboto, and a few others who’s names you barely caught as they bolted immediately after waking (all late for work). Your hungover stupor didn’t register much of anything outside of taking a fast shower and Mettaton dressing you in some equally as atrociously pink outfit before offering you a ride. Nice man underneath all that oh so glamorous sass. You rather liked him, honestly. Rolling fluffy pink sweater sleeves up, you marched your way up to the skeleton household, knocking on the front door. Today, you were bound and determined to finish all those tests Gaster had for you to take. You were supposed to finish them all in one sitting, right? Math is the devil in disguise, however, and fucked that plan right on up. You’d just have to make it up to your new mentor by powering through everything today.

Shouldn’t be too hard, really. So far as history and English literature went, you knew you were above and beyond most of your peers. The rest, not so much, but you could learn. You didn’t have much time to spend standing around thinking, the door being opened for you and Gaster waving you in. “I’m surprised you made it.” His tone was a forced calm, and you froze. He knows something you don’t. “...what did drunk me do?” The look of sheer terror on your face seemed to amuse him, judging by the derisive snort he gave. “Nothing, girl, I assumed all the liquor would’ve rendered you unable to move for the next several days in the very least.” The relief that overtook you was almost tangible as you sighed, shoulders slumping as you stepped inside and slip your shoes off. “Sweet, drunk me is a menace, never trust her.” Once you hit black out drunk, there was no telling what you would do. But it seems you hadn’t done anything to merit a talking to! For once.

“I trust that if you do manage to make it onto my team, any wild partying will be kept to the evenings before your days off?” There was something snide in Gaster’s voice, and you frowned. Well, that explained his stiff attitude. “Yeah, obviously, my guy.” No matter how miffed you were with him for thinking you were that irresponsible, your own tone was polite, if not a touch cool. “Anyways,” you continued before he could think of anything else petty to say, “I’m going to finish the rest of those tests today. I’m super sorry about not, y’know, doin’ all of them before. Math is the devil.” There you go! You got a snort out of him. “Math is neither evil nor good. It just is. But very well, go sit down. I assume you’d like some coffee or...perhaps water?” Back to his judgmental ways, it seems, picking on you for your likely blatant hangover. “Uh, coffee.” Caffeine was always a good idea, and your head gave a painful throb as if agreeing with you.

Either way, you found your way to the table, settling down and drumming your fingertips against it as Gaster brusquely made his way into the kitchen. A clean mug was fetched from a cabinet, one already used plucked up from the counter, and he busied himself with filling both. No cream or sugar, immediately veering around and making his way to the table himself. Your mug was set in front of you with a faint clink, and you wasted no time in wrapping your fingers around it, downing half of it in one go and rasping out a breath after. Oh, scalding hot, that hurt. But it hurt so good. Licking your lips as you set it aside, missing how Gaster rolled his eyes at you as he sat, a few stacks of paper were procured from...somewhere, and one was slid across to you. Pursing your lips as you pulled it closer to yourself, reaching over to take the offered pencil, you settled into work.

\-------------------------------------

Working in silence had been comfortable, and it hadn’t taken long once you settled into your groove for your hangover to subside and fade away. You hadn’t even noticed that Gaster was refilling your coffee for you every time you polished it off, hunched over your exams and pencil scratching across paper being all you heard. Most of it was surprisingly right up on your alley, save for anything requiring math. Questions like that slowed you down the most, but you always made sure to take your time, working through everything to the best of your ability. English lit. had been saved for last, just to give yourself something easy to finish with...needless to say, the essays were your favorite part of the whole ordeal, enthusiastically writing and rewriting as need be whenever you ended up taking up more space than was allowed. Of course, you didn’t necessarily reword or restructure everything, you just made your handwriting as tiny as possible to scrunch it all in.

By the time you finally finished, work reread to check for spelling and grammar errors, the side of your palm was covered in graphite. Not that it bothered you any, no, closing the booklet and sitting back in your seat with a wide grin. “Finished, Doctor Gaster.” Setting the pencil down, you used your fingertips to slide it over to him, his gaze snapping away from his own work. Glancing at you before down at your completed exam, he only gave a slight hum of acknowledgment, “so you are.” Picking it up and putting it with the others, he set his work down for a moment, looking at the watch around his wrist. “Sans and Papyrus should be home soon enough. Would you care to stay for dinner?” Blinking owlishly at the scientist, you looked over at the windows, confused. Dusk already? Had you really taken that long? “Shit, sorry, I didn’t think I’d end up taking up all your time today, my dude. But, uh...”

On one hand, you felt bad enough, did he skip work today? Then again, he was his own boss, and Gaster wouldn’t have had any problem tossing you out of his house if he needed to go in. Plus, free food! Conflicted as you were, you shrugged, sitting up properly in your seat again. “I’d love to, yeah. Want me to cook? I mean, y’had to put up with me for company all day, the least I can do is make dinner.” And you hadn’t been able to actually cook anything in so long, the idea of it had you excited as all get out. Not that you let too much of that eagerness show beyond a hopeful note in your voice, hands coming to rest on your thighs and fingertips tapping against your knees. “Can you be trusted not to burn my house down?” Gaster’s words were dry and immediately invoked a sour look from you, your brows furrowed in a frown.

“Might just do it out of spite now, broski, ya done goofed.”  
“By all means, do try.” 

Refraining from sticking your tongue out at him like the petty child you so oftentimes were, you popped up onto your feet, wincing at the sudden motion and taking a few moments to stretch your limbs out. Cramps from sitting all day, ouch. Leaning back until your back gave an almost obscenely loud pop (one that made you fairly purr), you flounced your way into the kitchen. “Got any food allergies, Mr. Skeledad? I know Sans n’ Paps don’t have any, not too sure about you.” You hadn’t noticed your slight slip up, looking back over your shoulder as your palm slid over a counter top. Displeased as he was, Gaster didn’t bother correcting you, focus returning to his work as he took a sip from long since cold coffee. “None that I’m aware of.”

“Sweet, won’t accidentally murder you or burn the house down, awesome.” Sarcasm drenched every syllable, making sure he wasn’t looking before you really did stick your tongue out at him. Now, to familiarize yourself with this bougie ass kitchen. Well, no, maybe it wasn’t really bougie, dude could clearly afford this lifestyle and certainly wasn’t extending himself beyond his means. Still, bougie ass kitchen. Sliding your phone from your pocket and getting some jams going, you set it to the side after turning the volume up just enough to be heard without being a hindrance to Mr. Skeledad over there. Cabinets were opened and closed, the pantry looked through and the fridge n’ freezer both thoroughly investigated. Hot damn, everything you needed for some kickass chicken fajitas was here. You could only hope they could all handle their spice. If a fajita wasn’t spicy enough to make the devil cry, it wasn’t nearly spicy enough.

Frozen chicken breasts were taken out of the freezer, jalapenos and all sorts of other things from the fridge, and the spice cabinet was raided for everything you’d need. Lips pursed as you set the breasts in the microwave to thaw (shame you couldn’t let them do that in the fridge instead), a cutting board and a knife was found. Peppers both sweet and mild were diced, garlic minced, an onion was cut, followed by cilantro and a few other odds and ends. The microwave beeped, but as you turned away from the task at hand to grab the chicken, you paused. When had Gaster gotten up? He was pulling them out for you, coming to stand a few feet away at the counter. “Bruh, if I’m the one cooking, this is my kitchen now. Begone, demon.” You made shooing motions with your hands but he only rolled his eyes at you, expression dry and far from amused. “I require a break from my work. I happen to enjoy cooking.”

The slight silence that followed was enough of a clue to tell you that he was waiting on some sort of instructions. Well, at least you still had full control over what was being made. “Aight, shit, okay...grab a small pot n fill it with just enough water to boil those breasts in. Don’t forget to salt the water or hands will be thrown.” Nothing else needed to be said as he stepped around you to do as told, a shallow pot filled with water and salted and set aside so he could briskly wash his hands. Drying them, Gaster set it down on the stove, setting the heat to high and chuckling as you curiously watched a flame flicker to life under it after a few weird sounding clicks. Fancy pants gas stove of some sort. “Oh, right, add some chicken bullion to that, too. Make it chicken squared. Chicken flavored chicken. Don’t worry about it being too salty or anything.”

Rinsing your hands and wiping them off on a hand towel, you reached for your phone. Your bubbly cooking tunes didn’t seem like the type of music he’d appreciate, and your thumb wavered over your screen as you tried to think of something to play instead. “You don’t strike me as a jazz man, that’d be way too fuckin’ easy.” Casting him a sideways look, you caught the almost imperceptible widening of that inky black smile of his. Cool, you were right on the money with that guess, then. “But I don’t see you as a metal or rock kind of guy, either. How about old school hip hop?” There’s no telling what your reasoning for any of those guesses was, you didn’t know how your own brain worked. “I’m not opposed to it.” That didn’t tell you whether or not he liked it, but close enough! A grin settled on your face as you pulled up a playlist on YouTube, turning up the volume and putting your phone down again.

“Oh shit, Biggie!” Hypnotize was the first song on that playlist, hell yeah, it was a good night. Bopping along with your hips swaying and shoulders shimmying, you would playful bump Gaster with your hip as you stepped closer to grab the vegetable oil. Well, it wasn’t really a hip bump, seeing as it connected somewhere barely above his knee. He only gave a vexed grunt in response, a quick glare shot down at you. “You can’t listen to music like this and not feel compelled to move your body at least a little bit, dude, it is physically impossible.” Your lips curled into a playful grin, nudging him out of the way to stand in front of the stove yourself. “Mind grabbing me, like, a super big pan or something? Big enough for all the veggies n’ stuff n’ the chicken once it’s done.” While he didn’t have anything to say in response, he did put what you needed down on the burner directly in front of you, grabbing a spatula as well after.

“Sweet, thanks. Keep an eye on the chicken.” You squinted at the stove, slowly turning one of the knobs and mimicking what you’d seen him do. Letting it click a few times before twitching to the side a little more and giving a delighted little gasp when a flame came to life under your pan. “Bitchin’ stove, my guy.” Just enough oil to saute all the veggies was added to it, and you waited for it to heat up before everything was dumped in, along with no small number of spices. Another song started playing and you were in your zone, dancing where you stood, adding a generous dusting of cayenne pepper to the veggies with one hand as the other used the spatula to continuously stir everything. “Oh, Doctor Gaster, ya got any Tajín here? I forgot to look for that. And grab some Worcester sauce if you have that, too, please.” Nodding, he grabbed what you needed for you, reaching across the stove to shake a healthy amount of Tajín in, followed by a generous splash of Worcester.

You were about to thank him when his hip bumped into your elbow, momentarily stunned into silence before a snicker escaped your lips. Petty revenge for earlier, looks like. “There ya go, old man, get that dust off those ancient bones of yours.” A cheeky grin spread across your face, undeterred by the annoyed grunt your sass earned you. “Oh, uh, once the chicken is done, leave a little bit of the water when you drain it, and shred the chicken for me.” Your attention was back on the task at hand, back to your carefree dancing as the lovely aroma of spicy food permeated the kitchen. “Very well.” You risked a glance at Gaster from where you stood, pleased to find he was very, very stiffly swaying to the music himself. The sort of sway where someone clearly didn’t want to dance but couldn’t help moving to the beat at least a little bit. Not opposed to old school hip hop your ass, you had his music taste pegged.

It wasn’t too long before the monster beside you was dancing himself, and you were smart enough not to say anything about it. No need to ruin it for him, Gaster didn’t strike you as the kind to really have fun all that often. That was a depressing thought, jeez. But the more he loosened up, so did you, giggling when you accidentally knocked elbows with him, stepping further away to give him space to do his thing. Part of you worried for a brief second that that little mishap would break the kitchen magic immersion going on, but that brief flit of anxiety melted when bony fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull you back to your original position, facing each other. Head craned back to stare up at him, you gave him a wide, toothy grin, shoulders shimmying and back to dancing. You could only laugh when he snorted and returned the motion, humoring you and moving in sync with you. Gaster turned sharply on his heels to turn his burner off once the chicken was done, still having his own fun as he leaned over and reached right over your head to grab tongs to fish the chicken breasts out of the water.

Snickering as you danced your way over to one of the cabinets you’d looked in earlier, you grabbed a large bowl, passing it off to a summoned hand that’d followed you over so he could shred the chicken. This was actually kind of...fun. Casual, low energy, this was a side of your sort of boss you could get along with. Back to his side and giving the veggies another stir to make sure nothing was gonna end up burning, you both fell back into your silent groove, moving as need be so Gaster could dump the shredded chicken into its spicy veggie bath once he was done. A little bit of the chicken water was added to your pan, everything stirred thoroughly, and you set it to simmer to keep it warm. The two of you hadn’t gotten too far into making salsa as a side before the click of a phone camera caught both of your attention, frozen like deer caught in a pair of headlights and heads whipping around to stare at a grinning Sans and a Papyrus with his hands clasped in front of his face.

“so, you two hittin’ it off, eh?”  
“DOES THIS MEAN [Y/N] IS A FAMILY FRIEND NOW?”

It was almost comical how quickly Gaster reverted to prim and proper, posture straight and back to coldly distant. Reaching over and up, you shoved at the monster’s bicep with your palm, “lighten up, Doctor Gaster. You two wanna help us finish making this? Grouchy old man here doesn’t seem too keen on dancin’ the night away anymore, I could use new dance partners.” Papyrus, naturally, was more than happy to rush right around the island counter and into the kitchen proper. He wasn’t quite as naturally inclined as his father, it would seem, but the tall skeleton at least looked like he was having fun dancing, squeezing between you and Gaster to start helping make the salsa. Short stack over there only shrugged, clambering up into one of the stools to watch instead. Not that you expected much else out of Sans, poor dude seemed like he was always exhausted, dancing probably wasn’t his thing.

\-------------------------------------

...it wasn’t til long after dinner had been eaten and you were back home in your dark apartment that you realized how lonely you were living by yourself. But lights were kept off as you changed into sweats and a tank top, making a mental note to drop the clothes Mettaton loaned you off to Alphys so she could return them as you crawled into bed. Arms wrapped around your pillow, check pressed down against it as your eyes adjusted to the dark, trained on the wall.

Ah, no use crying over it. You’d just make sure to make the most of your time around the skelebros and their forever cynical father.


End file.
